Vietnamese Traditional Martial Arts: From Village Grounds to International Stages – A Journey of Keeping the Flame Alive in Modern Times

When I set foot in a small martial arts school on the outskirts of Hue on an early summer morning, I did not expect to witness one of the most touching moments in my 37-year career as a training ground observer. An 8-year-old student, after completing his first form, bent down to pick up small pieces of trash from the training mat without being asked. That action was not in the curriculum, not part of any exam, but it said everything about what people call the "martial way" – something that manifests not through techniques but through quiet gestures.

The context of this story begins with a reality unfolding before us: the wave of MMA and modern combat sports is sweeping away the attention of Vietnamese youth. Major promotions like ONE Championship and UFC attract millions of views, while traditional martial arts schools gradually lose their students. But what the noisy media coverage of bloody fights often misses is the quiet story of teachers trying to adapt without losing their identity.

At the Vietnam Vovinam Federation, I learned about a pilot program bringing traditional martial arts into public schools across 5 provinces. Internal report data shows that after 6 months, the student retention rate reached 68% – a remarkable figure compared to the 40% dropout rate of traditional martial arts classes in the past. What made the difference? Not the techniques, but the teaching approach. The masters were retrained in modern pedagogical methods, transforming dry forms into vivid historical stories.

This adaptation is not about abandoning tradition, but about the only way to keep tradition alive.

I recall 2026, when I followed the national wrestling team to the SEA Games in the Philippines. Our athletes competed in silence, without fans, without live television coverage. But after winning 3 gold medals, they did something no journalist recorded: they stayed to pick up trash in the stands before leaving. When the media is noisy, true talent quietly walks the field.

The lesson from the teachers I have met over three decades is this: Vietnamese martial arts do not lack talent, do not lack technique, but lack a modern media and training ecosystem. A 70-year-old master in Binh Dinh can still teach me forms that no book has ever recorded, but he himself admits that without video, without digital platforms, that knowledge will die with him.

The irony is that while traditional schools struggle to find students, MMA gyms in Ho Chi Minh City and Hanoi are packed. I visited a gym in District 7 with over 200 students, charging 5 times the tuition of a traditional school. But interestingly, when I asked 20 random students about the origins of the techniques they were learning, 14 did not know that many modern MMA techniques have roots in Vietnamese traditional martial arts.

This is the blind spot the media is missing: we are chasing foreign things while forgetting we already have a treasure trove. A Khmer master in An Giang showed me the similarity between the sweeping techniques of Binh Dinh martial arts and the low kick in Muay Thai. A martial arts researcher in Hue demonstrated that joint lock techniques in folk wrestling can be directly applied to modern grappling.

But the story does not stop at technique. What gives Vietnamese martial arts their vitality is their humanistic philosophy – something modern competitions are gradually losing. During a wrestling match at the Giong Festival in 2026, I witnessed a young wrestler stop mid-match to help an opponent suffering from cramps, instead of seizing the opportunity to score. He lost that match, but that image lingered longer than any victory.

The repetition of history shows: every generation of masters faces the challenge of preserving identity amid the currents of the times. In the 1990s, when I began my career, schools competed with Hong Kong martial arts films. By the 2000s, it was the rise of Taekwondo and Karate. Now, it is MMA and e-sports. But looking back, Vietnamese martial arts still stand strong, not because we resist change, but because we know how to adapt without losing our roots.

At a conference on traditional martial arts development held in March 2026, experts agreed on one point: we need to build a digital data system for all forms, techniques, and philosophies of traditional martial arts. This project, if successful, will create a platform for the younger generation to access their ancestors' heritage in a modern way. But more important than technology is our attitude toward that heritage.

I remember a young journalist once asked me: "Do you think Vietnamese traditional martial arts are dying?" I answered with a story: five years ago, I visited a school in a remote area of Dong Thap province, which had only 7 students. This year I returned, and that school now has 40 students, and 3 of them have opened their own schools. They did nothing grand, simply taught with all their hearts and told stories of national history through each form.

The training ground is empty of people, but I still hear the heartbeat of a community saving itself. This is not romanticizing the past, but acknowledging that the true value of martial arts lies not in the number of victories, but in what it nurtures in the human soul. When I see those children in Hue bending down to pick up trash on the training mat, I see a generation being taught respect – something no MMA promotion can teach.

The question before us is not "will traditional martial arts die?", but "do we have the courage to recognize their true value?". In a world racing toward speed and violence, preserving the slow, deep, and humane values of traditional martial arts may be swimming against the current, but it is precisely that counter-current that creates identity. And as I have said many times in my career: the defeat will pass, but the image of fans bending down to pick up trash remains.